


If I Am Not For Myself

by WhyNotFly



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Jewish!Elias, Jewish!Jon, Jewish!Martin, M/M, Original Prompt: Peter and Elias getting married for the xth time and inviting the whole crew, Originally Posted on Tumblr, The alternate title for this fic is "everyone in tma is jewish because I say so", This was supposed to be about peter and elias getting married, but I got a bit carried away and now it's mostly jonmartin, it's actually really soft guys, romance and judaism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 19:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyNotFly/pseuds/WhyNotFly
Summary: “Who do you think he’s marrying?” Basira is sitting on top of Melanie’s desk, her book long forgotten in her lap.  “That’s gotta be a trip and a half, right?  Marrying Bouchard.”“Oh yeah, she could be a victim,” Melanie chimes in.  “Like, ‘I’m the beating heart of this relationship, now sign this marriage contract and if we get divorced you die’.”“Hell of a pre-nup,” says Tim.





	If I Am Not For Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm super heckin jewish and this story contains some terminology that someone who is less Jewish might not understand. So here's a brief index:
> 
> Chuppah - a canopy beneath which Jewish marriage ceremonies are performed.  
> Vav - a letter in the hebrew alphabet  
> Sfardic - a subset of Jews who are historically from Spain and Portugal, as well as North Africa and (as I intended it here) West Asia  
> Synagogue - a Jewish place of worship  
> Bimah - the small stage at the front of a synagogue  
> Tallas - A prayer shawl Jews wear around their necks during certain periods of worship  
> Kippah - A small skull cap worn while in places of worship, or all the time (if you're religious)  
> Bracha - the hebrew word for "blessings"
> 
> Also the circling and breaking glass are references to traditional rituals of a Jewish wedding.

Martin stops before he reaches Elias’ office, lingering a few feet down the hall to try and center himself. He used to do this right outside his door, eyes shut tight waiting for his breathing to settle before he pushed down the handle, but now the feeling that Elias is watching him do it, drinking in his anxieties like some kind of weird psychic vampire or something, settles heavy on his shoulders like smoke. Not that his precautions matter. Elias can probably see him all the way down the hall anyway. Probably been watching Martin approach since he called him up to his office. 

_Creepy prick_. Tim’s voice springs into his head unbidden. Martin tries to shake the thought away. Elias can read minds (he’s pretty sure he can, at least. Jon seems to think he can). The last thing Martin wants to do is insult his monster boss.

To think, he used to be scared when Elias called him into his office because he thought he’d be fired. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Martin takes in a deep breath and closes his mouth, forcing himself to swallow the air. He lets the decisive motion carry him forward, coasting on it until he knocks on Elias’ door once and then lets himself in. Elias smiles up at Martin and slides a folder into his desk drawer.

“Ah, Martin. Thank you for coming to see me.”

“S-sure,” Martin shifts his weight from one foot to another. This is a murderer, he reminds himself forcefully. This man murdered two people. He let Jon get hunted by the police. “I mean, what else was I going to do, not come?”

“I suppose that is the unfortunate imbalance of employer-employee friendships, is it not,” Elias says, sounding almost genuinely wistful.

“What? No, that’s not what I...I didn’t mean...I’m sorry—friendships?” 

“I hope I’m not too forward in saying that,” Elias breezes forward as if Martin isn’t standing in front of him with his jaw on the floor. “I know you’re my subordinates but I’ve become rather fond of you all in the archives. I suppose it only makes sense that I’m getting a little sentimental considering the circumstances.”

Elias chuckles a little as if the thought that he’d briefly feel bad about murdering one of them was an amusing concept. Martin’s mouth flops open and closed. He knows he looks stupid, he _feels_ stupid, but he just can’t find the words. Finally he babbles out, “you _kidnapped_ us.”

“The word kidnapped seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Elias raises one eyebrow and Martin suddenly feels like a petulant child.

“B-but Basira…”

“Signed those papers of her own free will. I wasn’t the one with a gun to someone’s head.”

“But still—”

“In fact,” Elias taps the back of his pen on his desk, sharp and decisive, “you all chose to come work for me. I did not seek you out, I did not coerce you. Some of you,” he eyes Martin meaningfully, “were quite desperate to be hired on. I fail to see how any of this is my responsibility.”

Martin chokes on his excuses. They felt valid just a moment ago, but he shrinks under Elias’ burning gaze. He feels useless and slow, like in first grade when his teacher recommended him to stay back a year with a special tutor to correct his stuttering. Elias probably knows all of that. He knows what a failure Martin is. 

“Why did you call for me, Elias.” Martin’s voice is quiet, his shoulders slightly slumped. This is not a human, he repeats his mantra in his head. He let Jon get kidnapped. He let Sasha die.

“Oh, yes. Of course. We’ve gotten off track.” Elias smiles again, but it’s off. It’s uncomfortably bright. “I’ve heard around the office that you’re good with a needle.” 

“What?”

“You can sew. Embroider. I think I also heard weaving?”

“I don’t, I mean,” Martin blinks several times trying to straighten out his thoughts, but each time he looks at Elias he’s still got that same disorientingly genuine smile on. This is not a human. “I mean, y-yes, I can. Can’t you just...did you just look inside my head?”

“I try not to waste my energy learning things I can easily glean in the more mundane ways.”

“Ah.” Martin shifts his weight again, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “So did you need something mended or…?”

“Yes. I was hoping you could make me a _chuppah_.”

Martin stares at Elias. So many thoughts swirl into his head all at once that he can’t pick a single one to focus on. Again he finds himself gaping. “I’m sorry _what_?”

Elias tilts his head forward a fraction. “Do you not know what a _chuppah_ is?”

“Of course I know what a _chuppah_ is!” Martin nearly shouts, his voice jumping two whole octaves. “Since when are you getting _MARRIED_?”

***

“Are you sure you didn’t mishear him,” Melanie asks for the fourth time.

“Yes, Melanie. I’m very sure. We discussed design specifics, it was all very explicit.”

“Who do you think he’s marrying?” Basira is sitting on top of Melanie’s desk, her book long forgotten in her lap. “That’s gotta be a trip and a half, right? Marrying Bouchard.”

“Maybe she’s brainwashed.” Tim’s mood is still black, but even he couldn’t ignore the revelation that Elias Bouchard is getting married in a few days. The entirety of the Archives staff had come together to discuss and debate. Martin couldn’t help thinking that it kind of felt good. Almost like normal office gossip. Almost like they were actually friends.

“Oh yeah, she could be a victim,” Melanie chimes in. “Like, ‘I’m the beating heart of this relationship, now sign this marriage contract and if we get divorced you die’.”

“Hell of a pre-nup,” says Tim.

“Could be a he.” Basira taps her chin and makes what Martin likes to think of as her detective face. “I do get a bit of a gay vibe.”

“Well we’re gonna find out who it is soon,” Martin says, jabbing his needle through the cloth again. He’s actually pretty happy with how it’s coming out so far. He put little stylized eyes in the corners and now he’s putting his favorite hebrew proverb in a pale blue along the edges. “We’re all going to be attending, according to Elias.”

Tim laughs and it sounds nothing like how Tim is supposed to laugh. “Like hell I’m going. If I’m not going to physically keel over I’m not going anywhere Elias wants me.”

“He didn’t exactly make it sound optional.”

“He’s been married before, you know.” Everyone turns to look at Jon. He’s been quiet since he got back from being kidnapped, and his movements are still sluggish and small. 

“How do you know that?” Basira narrows her eyes and Jon shakes his head quickly.

“It’s not a...I didn’t _Know_ it. He just, he used to wear a wedding ring. He had one when I was hired, I remember seeing it. I don’t know when he stopped wearing it, though.”

Martin gasps. “You’re right! I remember that! He didn’t have one when he hired me and then a few weeks later he did and everyone in research was talking about it. Lacey, you know, from accounts, she said he’d only just taken off his last ring a few months before so people were wondering what the scandal was.”

Melanie leans forward as if she’s sharing some kind of dark secret. Her eyes glint sharply. “What if he’s got a whole creepy basement full of dismembered spouses, Bluebeard style. And he just marries them and disappears them and eats their brains or something.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Martin says, but he can’t help going a little pale. He hates that he can’t rule it out entirely.

“I can’t imagine that many people wanting to marry Elias.” Jon walks over to stand beside Martin and puts a hand down on his desk.

“He’s rich,” says Basira.

“And handsome,” Tim adds with a sardonic grin. “Guess being a monster doesn’t stop you from having a chiseled jaw. Lucky you, boss.”

“You can’t honestly think he’s handsome,” Jon scoffs at Tim’s insinuations. Then looks down in horror at Martin who’s rubbing his neck, guiltily. “He’s your boss. And he’s...he’s _Elias_.”

“I guess he’s got kind of a Christian Gray thing going on,” says Melanie. She laughs and holds up her hands as the rest of the assistants begin loudly complaining. Tim throws a pen at her head. Jon looks lost. “It was a joke! I was joking.”

The room falls into silence as everyone tries to settle their thoughts. Martin hates the silences in the Archives these days. They used to be warm and comfortable, but now it just feels like everyone is drowning privately in their own dark pool. He hunches his shoulders and looks down at his work, carefully stitching in a _vav_.

Basira breaks the silence. “So what actually is a _chuppah_?”

“Oh!” Martin looks up. “It’s, it’s a Jewish thing. For weddings. It’s like a cloth piece that you hang up and get married under? It’s... y’know. Traditional.”

“Bouchard doesn’t sound like a Jewish name.” Tim crosses his arms, looking suspiciously at Martin as if Elias is pretending to be Jewish as part of some deeper scheme. Who knows, maybe he is.

“Neither does Sims,” says Jon and again, everyone turns to look at him in surprise. His eyes dart away nervously and he picks at the skin peeling off his burn scarred hand.

“You’re Jewish?” Martin squeaks and he feels like he needs to sit down even though he’s already sitting. This whole day is making his head spin.

“But, but you’re…” Melanie gestures helplessly at Jon. He narrows his eyes.

“Sfardic,” he supplies, dryly.

“I always assumed Blackwood sounded more, y’know, classically Jewish in the original Polish before we had to change it,” Martin bursts in, trying to cut the tension. “Immigration, and all that.”

“Plus there’s always conversion, I guess,” Basira adds, shrugging.

“You’d think he’d be full up on worshipping a giant evil eyeball,” Tim says. “Can’t exactly see that gelling great with traditional religion.”

“Actually Judaism is all about asking questions.” Martin feels a weird knot in his chest and he’s not sure why.

“If I am not for myself,” says Jon, quietly, “who will be for me?”

Martin is briefly startled before he looks up and sees that Jon is looking over his shoulder and reading the Hebrew he’s been embroidering on Elias’ _chuppah_. There’s a tiny crease between his eyebrows and Martin so badly wants to lean up and press a gentle kiss to it. Soothe the constant struggle warring in Jon’s brain. He wonders what his mother would think, if he brought Jon home. Not a girl, but Jewish. Finally, he’d be at least half the son she’s always wanted. 

“Do you read Hebrew?” Martin asks, keeping his voice low as if he can speak only to Jon in a room full of people. 

Jon makes a confused face at Martin, as if he can’t follow the question. “No?”

“Oh.” Martin looks down at his sewing. “It’s from _Pirkei Avot. Im ein ani li, mi li? U'kh'she'ani le'atzmi, mah ani? V'im lo 'akhshav, eimatai_?”

“If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But, if I am only for me, what am I?”

“And if the time is not now,” Martin looks up at Jon, tracing his scars with his eyes, “when will it be?”

Jon meets his eyes and Martin feels a shiver roll from his stomach down to his toes. “You’re very good at sewing, Martin.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you, I guess?”

***

It’s more beautiful than it has any right to be. The little chapel is covered in blue and purple flowers, and the evening light catches on the colorful stained glass. Martin feels almost under-dressed in his ratty old coat and striped green tie. Before they sit down, Jon pulls Martin aside and asks for help doing up his cuff links, and it gives Martin a chance to admire him in his sharp black suit. His hair is slicked back neat, and he looks fancier than Martin has ever seen him before. His suit hangs loose off his shoulders and Martin’s chest tightens with concern. He is so thin. 

Messing with Jon’s cuffs is so very close to holding his hands. If Elias can get married, is it so stupid for Martin to keep hoping?

“Thank you, Martin.” Jon says, stiffly, pulling away. Martin looks up to see Basira entering the synagogue, towing an annoyed looking Daisy in a blazer along behind her. Martin situates himself between her and Jon, making sure they sit on the opposite ends of the pew. Besides the four of them, and Tim and Melanie who come a little later and sit in the back row, the chapel is completely empty. No family, no friends, no hint of what’s going to happen. Martin admires how nice his light blue needlework on the _chuppah_ matches the floral arrangements. It doesn’t feel like a dark ritual. It just feels like a wedding.

An older man who Martin doesn’t recognize comes in first, and walk up to stand on the _bimah_. He’s wearing a _tallas_ and holding a thick book, so Martin thinks he must be the rabbi. Martin feels suddenly self conscious about not wearing a _tallas_. He isn’t sure if he was supposed to, and he doesn’t know where he put his. He hasn’t worn it in so long. It took him forever just to scrounge up the shiny black _kippah_ he’s wearing.

“Where do you think you find a supernatural rabbi?” Basira asks, leaning over to Martin, her breath hot on his ear. 

“We don’t know he’s in on all of this. I mean, Elias looks normal, maybe he just thinks it’s all normal.”

“Why does someone like Elias even care about something as pointless as a wedding?” Jon leans in on Martin’s other side to join in the whispering. “He’s never bothered with legality before.”

“Well, weddings are just nice is all. Don’t, um,” Martin finds it hard to talk to Jon when turning his head leaves their faces inches from each other. “Don’t you want to get married someday, Jon?”

“I find it rather low on my list of priorities,” he responds with biting cynicism, and Martin swallows his disappointment. His voice seems to say _oh classic Martin, thinking about romance while the world could be ending_.

“Right.” Martin nods and drops eye contact. “That’s, um, t-that’s fair.”

The group turns at the sound of the doors at the back of the chapel opening, and they watch as Elias strides up the aisle. He is dressed in a stunning burgundy suit, Martin can see the sunlight catch off the iridescent fabric and sparkle a little. He’s holding in his hands a small bouquet of those same blue and purple flowers adorning the chapel. He reaches the front and stands by the rabbi, before turning to look back at the doors. Martin and everyone around him turn as well, waiting for the mystery fiancee to make their appearance.

The man walks into the synagogue and Martin can’t breathe, and it’s not just because Basira elbowed him sharply in the ribs. The man gives Martin a saucy wink as he saunters up the aisle. Martin grabs Jon’s wrist and turns to him urgently.

“That’s _Peter Lukas_ ,” he whispers sharply. Jon’s eyes go wide and he leans around Martin to get a better look.

“Peter Lukas from the _Tundra_?” Jon looks back at Martin and barely keeps his voice to a whisper. “Wait, why do you know what Peter Lukas looks like?”

“He stopped by the archives while you were gone, he said…” Martin’s eyes widen as reality dawns on him, “he said he was meeting with Elias.”

“ _He just stopped by the archives_?” Jon looks like he wants to be angry at Martin, but knows he shouldn’t be. Martin slouches a bit, trying to make himself smaller.

“One second I was recording a statement and the next he was just there.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Martin blinks, surprised by the question. “N-no. He was really polite actually? Like, disturbingly friendly.”

The two of them turn back to look at Peter who has reached the front and taken Elias by both hands. Martin can’t help but find it romantic, the way they’re staring into each others’ eyes. They really look in love. He is not human, _they_ are not human, he tries to remind himself, but it doesn’t hold the same weight it usually does. The rabbi starts singing the _bracha_ ; Martin has always loved the sounds of prayer, they feel deep and important, and he used to like sitting with his mom feeling surrounded by something bigger than himself. That was back when she used to take him to temple. Before she stopped leaving the house. But this synagogue is full of light and song and flowers, it’s just what Martin had always dreamed his own wedding would be like.

“What do you figure their angle is?” Basira says, leaning in on Martin but clearly talking past him to Jon. “He wouldn’t just invite us to some wedding if he wasn’t getting something out of it.”

“I think it might be an alliance,” Jon answers. “The Lukas family are followers of the Lonely, maybe this will secure their assistance on stopping the Unknowing.”

“Couldn’t they just be in love?” Martin asks, and he feels stupid even saying it. Basira and Jon look over at him, unimpressed. “I mean, didn’t, um, I mean, if Jon is sort of turning into something then it kinda makes sense that Elias and Peter were human once? They, I mean, they certainly _look_ human. Maybe, maybe it isn’t crazy to think that they still are human? At least a little. Maybe they still feel love.”

Jon purses his lips. He looks up at Peter and Elias, Peter is circling around Elias slowly, never taking his eyes off his husband-to-be. 

“I’d like to think that no matter how far you go,” Martin adds quietly, “you wouldn’t forget how to care about people.”

Jon looks at Martin appraisingly and Martin can’t help the color that rises in his cheeks. The wedding feels so far away when he’s staring into Jon’s eyes. He couldn’t forget how to care about people, could he?

The crack of glass pulls their attention away. Peter and Elias are wrapped up in each other, kissing passionately. They don’t look like monsters hatching some kind of evil scheme. They just look like two men in love. Maybe the scheme is getting Martin to forget they’re evil at all. Martin’s tie suddenly feels too tight, and he fiddles with it, wishing he could pull the damn thing off right in the middle of the chapel. Who would even care, no one is here.

Jon lays a hand on the side of Martin’s arm. “I do want to get married someday, Martin.” Martin’s brain reels with the sound of those words. He imagines Jon’s soft eyes looking into his, their fingers laced together, and whispering _I do_. “But every day I feel like I drift further and further from a world where that’s possible.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Jon,” Martin tries not to let his voice sound desperate. “You’re doing so many good things, you’re saving the world. You deserve to give yourself something happy.”

“If I am not for myself, who will be for me,” Jon recites with a sad smile, as if he’s already given up even as he speaks.

“I will.”

Jon looks over at Martin, finally, and Martin struggles to hold back the tears he feels threatening to spill over. He always seems to cry at weddings. “I’ll be for you, Jon. And when we get through all of this, you’ll find someone special, and when you do, I’ll...I’ll embroider your _chuppah_.”

Jon lets out a breath that sounds almost like the beginning of a laugh. “I’d like mine to have less eyes on it, please.”

“Sure.” Martin smiles. On the _bimah_ , Peter says something too low for Martin to hear that prompts Elias to roll his eyes and grin. “Anything you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you to the anonymous person who requested this fic. I apologize if you were looking for more romantic lonely eyes cuz I got on a pretty serious jonmartin tangent and just ran with it all the way home.
> 
> If you'd like to hear more TMA + Judaism headcanons (because I now can't stop thinking about it) or if you'd just like to chat about the magnus archives in general, come find me on Tumblr @apatheticbutterflies I post meta and writing. And I'm always desperate to talk!


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